The Five champions of Nirn
by Alexius Tsakirakius
Summary: This is the story of five heroes, from daggerfall, morrowind, oblivion and skyrim, plus a little extra of mine, whose destiny is to save the world of Nirn.


The Five Champions of Nirn

An Elder Scrolls fanfiction, written by Alexis Tsakirakis

Part I: Gathering

It was a cold damp night in Daggerfall. Everyone was safe in their beds. At least as safe as they could be, in the city of plots. Septimus, most commonly known as the hero of Daggerfall, was spending the Night at an inn. He woke up to the sound of footsteps and, as he opened his eyes, saw a hooded figure looming over him.

"You've made som' folks very angry", said the hooded man while drawing a black, mean-looking dagger from his belt. "Important folks. Now they send'd me to teach ya a less'n"

Before he could react, a purple flash bathed the room in light and Septimus lost his consciousness. When it was over, the only person left in the room was a really surprised looking cutthroat, with a dagger ready in his hand.

"This kind o' shit only happens to me, fo' cert'n", he muttered. "fuckin' wiz'rds".

The city of Mournhold was busy as always. Dark Elf citizens were shopping in the markets, sitting in the parks and generally minding their business, while Argonian slaves were running errands for their masters. The Nerevarine was attending a boring meeting in Almalexia's palace and praying to Azura for some action.

"... and I am certain the Nerevarine is of one mind with me", she heard Almalexia say "aren't you"

"Hmm?" the Nerevarine looked up and saw everyone looking at her, expecting an answer. She wasn't paying much attention to the conversation and knew not what was being discussed. The only thing she knew was that Almalexia had invited her so that she would have the Nerevarine at her back and that she had spent five hours of torture in that chamber, trying not to start snoring and that representatives of the Great Houses, the Priesthood and of course Almalexia the goddess-queen of Morrowind were sitting there waiting for her answer to a question she hadn't heard, about a matter she didn't know. How difficult the life of a hero can sometimes be, she thought to herself.

"I… umm.. I think that… ehmm…" before she could finish the sentence, a purple flash shone in the middle of the room. She heard a low, warm yet commanding voice whisper "Sleep". A voice she was all too familiar with.

"Azura…" she begun saying before the world grew dark around her.

It was Mondas, the fifteenth of Last Seed, the year 3 of the fourth era and Arturus Bherrus, the Champion of Cyrodiil was kneeling in front of a shrine of Akatosh inside the temple in the Imperial City. It was a relatively warm day outside, perfect for a walk, but the Champion was in no mood for strolling.

"Akatosh, lord of time and Father of us all, forgive me, for I have sinned", he said. "I missed the sermon delivered yesterday by thy holy priest."

No answer came from the shrine. He was sure this was because Akatosh had not forgiven him. He was desperate for the dragon-god's forgiveness, and so he continued.

"I know how terrible my error is, but please take pity upon me. I have been a god respecting man all my life. I greatly contributed to the temple and have been thy loyal servant in your righteous battle against the evil demon Mehrunes-Dagon, daedric prince of destruction" he said, but still the shrine was as silent as the stones from which it had been made.

He got up and was ready to leave. The priests would tell him to calm down about the matter, he was sure, but he wanted to give the divines their proper respect. He turned around towards the temple doors and gasped at what he saw. Before him shone a sphere of light that glowed with an otherworldly purple glow. Arturus knew for sure that there was something demonic going on about it. He unsheathed his sword and slashed at it.

"Away with you, vile abomination!" he yelled as he slashed at it again, to no avail. The sphere moved towards him and surrounded him lifting him from the ground. He could not speak or move. His head was aching. His sight blurred and darkness took him.

Ah, what a pleasant day, thought the Dovahkiin. And it truly was a pleasant day. The skies of Skyrim were clear and blue and the temperature was fine, if a bit too warm for his liking. But the best is, he thought, not a single dragon in the horizon. His thoughts were interrupted by a hooded Kahjit who came close to him, brandishing a dagger.

"All right, hand over all your valuables!" said the Kahjit.

"A thief! And I was beginning to think this day was boring." said the Dovahkiin "I'll give you ten seconds to turn around and bolt, thief"

"What are you saying, Nord? This one wants your valuables, and you best hand them over quick!"

"Fool! Don't you recognize me? I am Raglaff Strong-voice, the Dragonborn, slayer of Alduin and yielder of the Voice!"

"Kahjit doesn't care who you are! Just give me your gold!" spoke the mugger in a furious voice.

"I've got three words for you." said Raglaff "FUS RO…"

Before he could finish his shout, purple light flashed all around him and he lost his senses.

"Whe-where am I?" wondered Septimus loudly.

He looked around him. It was dark, too dark to see. He concluded that either he had been blinded, or that there simply wasn't any light.

"Oh, my head…" he heard somebody say.

"Daah…" answered another voice.

"Why is it so dark?" said a woman.

Suddenly, there was light. A purple glow that seemed uncannily familiar. He looked around again. There didn't seem to be a floor under him, yet he wasn't falling. He noticed that there weren't any walls either. With him he saw three figures in the dim glow. One was a strong-looking Nord with dark hair and a beard he could see under his helm. He had a greatsword in a sheath on his back. His armor was that of the ancient Nords, a sight Septimus had only seen in books. He was struggling to get up and was mumbling something about magic. The other was a slender dark elf woman clad in dark leather. Her hair was black and her face was beautiful. Her eyes were a shade of violet, a color unusual for an elf. She had two daggers and a sword strapped to her belt. Septimus could see that she was trying to find the way out. Last he looked upon a heavily armed Imperial, clad in a royal red-gold armor that bore the sign of the Septim dynasty of Emperors, the golden dragon in a red field. He was lacking a helm, and a shield of the same quality as the armor lay next to him. He looked older than the others, as streaks of grey adorned his hair and beard. He was grabbing his head and had a very puzzled expression on his face.

They sat there in awkward silence for a while, until Septimus decided to break it.

"Are we… are we dead?" he asked.

The others looked at him like he had just said something extremely stupid. Finally, the Nord spoke.

"I've been to Sovengarde and it is not a bit like this. We are not dead, of that you can be sure, master Breton."

"Then where are we?" said the Elf lady "And what is this purple mist?"

"Oh, there is no need to puzzle your little heads dears" Echoed a strange female voice. They all turned to look at its source where a portal had opened and a lady was now standing in front of it. She looked beautiful, but cruel. She wore a purple robe, same as the color of the mist. Septimus recognized her by the object she was holding; a large gem in the shape of a six-angled star. Azura's star.

"Lady Azura!" said the elf as she bowed before the daedric prince of dusk and dawn.

"No need for that, child." said the goddess "I have much to say and you four have much to hear".

"I do not take orders from daedra!" yelled the Imperial and reached for a spot in his belt where his sword should have been. "My sword! What have you done with it, wretched creature?"

"Spare me your pitiful pride, mortal" said Azura "The only reason you are still living is that you may prove useful. Now listen to me. I have foreseen that a great evil will soon cast its shadow on Tamriel. An Evil whose name and nature that even I can't see. You four heroes shall save Tamriel or die trying. The Dragonborn of the Fourth era, the Nerevarine, the Hero of Daggerfall and the Champion of Cyrodiil"

At this point Septimus was really confused. A daedric prince had gathered himself and three other heroes whose names he had never heard of to save the world from some evil even she could not clearly see. He knew the legends of the Dragonborn and Nerevar, but he had never heard of this two. The only Dragonborn he knew was Tiber Septim and he had long since been dead.

"What makes you think we will?" exclaimed the Imperial

"You don't have much of a choice now, do you?" answered the daedric prince.

"Let's just get done with it. Where is that evil I must kill?" the Nord said with his greatsword already unsheathed.

"If only it was that simple, Dovahkiin" laughed Azura "I will send you forward in time to the Fifth era, when people have forgotten your names and your actions. There you must fight for the survival of this plain and of all the other plains"

"Wait, lady Azura" the Dark Elf said "won't you at least give us some guidance?"

"I will trust you with a prophecy but that is all the aid I can grant.

_When fire and darkness walk the earth_

_When the land of kings fall _

_When the traitors wake and bring despair_

_For five heroes Nirn calls"_

Before they could protest the purple mist surrounded each one of them and the world darkened again.

_Hi guys, I am new to Fanfiction, so please send in any advice you have it will really help! This was the first episode of my Elder Scrolls fanfiction called "the Five Champions of Nirn". The second episode will be coming soon._


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